


On Pears and Touching

by orphan_account



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: (mild) sensory overload, Autistic Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley is here to tempt ya, Fluff, Hyperfocus, Other, they/them aziraphale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-24
Updated: 2019-08-24
Packaged: 2020-10-01 19:01:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20373448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Crowley was there the first time Aziraphale ate a pear. He’d been the one who tempted them into it.Five thousand years later he's tempting him into a new and greater delight. It's holding hands.A lot of yearning and a heavy dose of awkward pining.it's an autistic aziraphale headcannon complete with sensory overload and a chronic inability to make a decision when they can't predict the outcomes. I could point to a dozen different examples of why I came to this headcannon, but all I got is this note that reads "I do what I want." weird.this fic contains excessive description of Aziraphale eating a pear and five thousand years later holding a hand. there may even be some gentle hand kisses.





	On Pears and Touching

Crowley was there the first time Aziraphale ate a pear. He’d been the one who tempted them into it.

Crowley was sitting cross legged on a table at a politicians party. This wasn’t what tables were designed to do, and there was plenty of perfectly suitable benches and chairs, but as much as Crowley liked lounging he also disliked being that low to the ground. Plus the general disobedience of it all was too great to resist. So here he was, disrespecting the furniture, next to him was a bowl of fruit, before him was a wooden plate and sharp knife.  
He slicing the pear into small pieces as he ate. The slicing took time and he’d already convinced a young man his father was unfit to rule and that he should immediately take his place. Now he just had to wait around and see what the lad would do. 

“Crowley?” 

Oh Satan. This was trouble. He could deflect the humans attention around himself, so if a human did notice him sitting on the table they’d all decide that it was someone elses problem, but the angel would notice. The angel could use their divine wrath to order him out of the city, or at least off the table.  
Crowley refused to flinch. He maintained direct eye contact with Aziraphale as he casually sliced another side off the pear and ate it, daring the angel to say anything about it. 

Aziraphale evaded the eye contact completely and though certainly looked like they wanted to say something, none of it seemed particularly wrathful, though they couldn’t help but look a little divine. 

Eventually Aziraphales words seemed to settle on “Why do you eat?” 

That wasn’t what Crowley was expecting. “Helps me blend in with the locals.” Answered Crowley with half honesty. Then Crowley had an excellent idea for some fun and pushed the plate towards the angel. “You should try it. It’s sweet.”

Aziraphale opened and closed his mouth a few times, looking like they had didn’t know the words to put to their thoughts. “But what does that mean Crowley. I don’t know what sweet means. People say things are sweet and they say they like them but they also say they’re sour and they also like that. And they talk as though sour is the opposite of sweet but they apparently like both and sometimes together and I don’t know what it means for something to be sweet.” 

“Well it means that people like it, and you won’t know what to compare it to until you start.”  
Crowley wanted more than anything to convince them to try it. He remembered a bit of tasting advice he got from a strict woman trying to select the perfect menu for her daughters upcoming wedding celebrations. He cut a side of a pear and sliced it into three smaller pieces and said. “Three pieces. With the first piece you just experience it. Don’t make up your mind on the fist taste. With the second piece I want you to notice the flavors, the textures, to pay attention. With the third piece you decide if you like it or not. And then you will know what sweet is.” 

Aziraphale looked suspicious. “This isn’t one of your demonic temptations is it? One of those ‘in ten years we shall have him’ type deals” 

Crowley smiled in a way he hoped looked reassuring. “Angel, Armageddon will come and go before I could ever have you.” 

Aziraphale looked truly flattered. “Oh. Thank you.” 

“And is there anything inherently sinful about eating the food that she grows?” 

“No. I suppose there isn’t.”  
Aziraphale looked like their mind was made up. “Okay I’ll try it.” 

Crowley watched as they put the first piece in their mouth. It was extraordinary. It was as though every feeling the Angel had ever had immediately broadcast to their face. Eyebrows went up. Eyebrows went down. They wiggled and eyes darted around as though they half expected to see the flavors if only they looked from just the right angle. He thought for a second he saw a smile, or was it a grimace. Crowley had no clue if the angel was having the best or the worst time, but he did know that it was amazingly fun to watch. 

“Don’t judge it on the first taste.” Crowley hid his smile behind his hand as he pushed the plate forwards. “The first time can be overwhelming. This time notice the flavors.” 

This time as he watched the angel eat their facial expressions were less erratic, but still pronounced. Eyebrows still darted up, body still wiggled and swayed, eyes still looked all about the place, a noise came out. It was a delicate little “Uhm”. Crowley wanted to swear. 

He didn’t trust his voice to disguise just how much fun he was having so he just tapped at the plate indicating that they should take the last bite. And they did. And according to everything he saw happening to this angels face, they really liked food. Their eyes went up and stayed there this time, looking to the heavens as they ate. They swayed delicately. They made a low and deliberate “hmmm” sound when they were done. Before they started Crowley was sure he wasn’t tempting him into anything truly evil. Now he wasn’t so sure. 

“So.” Said Crowley with a smirk. “Do you like the pear?” 

—————————

It was about five thousand years later, the apocalypse had come and gone, and Aziraphale was watching TV with his Crowley. Well, they were in the room as the TV was playing, which is almost the same thing. Crowley was falling asleep and Aziraphale was watching him fall asleep. Crowley had sprawled on his side on the couch, with Aziraphale on the floor in front of them. Their gaze had become fixated on Crowleys hand. It jutted out in front of his sleeping body. So close, and so touchable. 

Aziraphale wanted to touch their Crowley. They didn’t have any real idea of what they wanted beyond that. They saw human couples holding hands, laying in each others arms, kissing, touching. It all seemed nice. They wanted to do that. They wanted to do it all. 

The trouble was that they had absolutely no idea how to start. Do you ask? What should they ask? ‘Excuse me Dear but do you mind terribly if I put my hands all over you? Possibly my body too? What parts of you do I want to touch? Well that’s the thing I don’t actually know. I just know that you’re right next to me but that’s still not close enough.’  
Aziraphale thought it was embarrassing and stupid. He turned away, looking at the TV screen Someone was planing to kidnap the queen. 

“Penny for your thoughts Angel?” came a low gentle sleepy kind of voice. 

“What? No. Nothing. I wasn’t thinking anything.” Came the unexpectedly hurried reply. 

Crowley laughed. It was a nice laugh, a kind laugh, but were you playing poker you’d immediately fold if you heard that laugh. That was a laugh that knew that it’d won, it just needed to wait for the other players to realise that too.  
“So you weren’t just looking at my hand like that?”

“Like what?” Aziraphale was shocked. He knew?! How much did he know?! Was he ever going to say anything?! Also could he please say something because Aziraphale wasn’t sure if he actually knew himself. 

“You were looking at my hand the same way you looked at that first pear.” 

“Oh.” Aziraphale went quiet. The first pear. That was the feeling. “I wasn’t aware that I had a pear look.” They added defensively. 

“You have many looks.” Crowley shifted his weight, laying on his back lifting his arm in the air and looking at his hand quite dramatically. “What did you want to do with the hand?”

“I don’t know.” A small amount of embarrassed annoyance grew within Aziraphale. Why can’t he just know what they want to do with the hand. Why can’t he tell them what they want to do with the hand. This was all rather vexing.

“Don’t know? Don’t have any clues at all? Can’t think of a single word in the entirety of the english language that might express what you’d like to do with this hand?” 

Alright. Aziraphale had to admit he did know a few words to describe his want. “I… I’d like to hold it.”

“Oooohh!” added Crowley, gently reaching his hand out, palm upwards, to where Aziraphale needed it to be. “Well it’s right there. And it’s so very holdable. I think it even wants to be held.” He flexed his fingers gently.

Aziraphale blushed. Did he have to be such a smug prick about it? Yes he did. He was their Crowley. The smugness came baked right in. They reached out and took the hand. 

At first it didn’t feel much like anything. But then all of their awareness flooded to the sensation of their hand. They could swear they could feel the individual bumps and ridges as fingerprints slid past each other. They could feel it. They could feel it a lot. They could feel it too much. It was too much. A deep prickling itch burned into the palm and the tips of their fingers. They had to get rid of the sensation. They let go of Crowleys perfect hand, but the sensation remained. They took their prickling burning hand and rubbed it hard against their trousers. The corduroy providing a nice soft predictable texture. They knew exactly how rubbing the corduroy pants would feel and it felt exactly that way, the reassuring repetitiveness soothing and removing all itching and burning.  
Oh god what’ve they done. They finally touch their Crowley and the fist thing they do is get overwhelmed and obsessively try to rub the touch off. What must he think of them. They stammer out repeated apologies. 

“Hey. Hey. Hey.” Came the reply. “It’s okay. It’s okay. Hey. Look at me.”  
Aziraphale tries to look at his devil then immediately looks away again. Crowley picks up his glasses from the small table beside the couch and puts them on. “Look at the glasses.”  
Aziraphale looks. Crowley is half sitting up trying to read Aziraphale and Aziraphale to his relief recognizes that Crowley isn’t angry or upset. Just concerned. Which is also not that great. They look away again.  
“It’s okay.” Added Crowley. “You tried something new and you didn’t like it. That’s okay. I’m sorry I pushed you into it.”

“It’s not that.” 

“It’s not that I pushed you into it?” When he didn’t get a reply Crowley tried again. “It’s not that you didn’t like it?”

“Yeah. It’s not that.” 

“Okay.” Aziraphale heard crowley lean back against the couch and relax again. “Do you want to finish watching the movie and talk about it later?”

Aziraphale nodded and no more was said. It was some time later, the movie was approaching it’s climax and the queen had just kicked some serious butt. There was nothing left to do but save the world. Aziraphale leaned their head back against the couch and looked at their Crowley. His glasses were still on and his face was turned towards the television, watching it. They looked back at the hand and formed a plan.  
They turned their body so they were sitting side on to the couch, knees up in front of them. Aziraphale picked up Crowleys hand and placed it, palm down, on top of their knee. They looked up at the glasses and saw a smile creep across Crowleys face. 

Aziraphale felt the heat and weight of Crowleys hand on their knee. They looked at the hand, at the fingers, at the lines of the knuckles and the shape of the nails. They took their finger and gently ran it along Crowleys fingers, feeling the bumps and folds along the knuckles, feeling the smoothness of the nail. There was power and energy in the touch. It didn’t take long before that hand became the only thing in the world they could think about.  
They ran their finger back and forth across the nail, experiencing it’s smooth warmth, before circling it around the cuticle. They stroked around each finger, admiring how the softness at the back transitioned into harder skin beneath. They took in every detail of the back of the hand before picking it up and turning it over. They traced the lines on the palm, the lines behind the knuckles. The texture and energy on the palm was so much harsher than the backs, but still pleasant in small amounts. They ran their finger along the outline of the hand, up the thumb and down the other side, between each finger, and back around the palm to where it began.  
They picked up the hand, placing their own against it, before letting the fingers fall between each other. Crowley squeezed, and the unexpected movement was almost enough to snap them out of it, but instead it just brought their awareness to the delightful being attached to this amazing hand. Aziraphale squeezed back, holding with one hand the other hand continued to trace skin on the back of the hand, running from the skin where the wrist met the hand to the tips of the fingers, then back again, and back up another finger. All Aziraphale could think about in the world was the sensations of his hands against theirs and it was all so wonderful. 

“Angel.” Crowley sounded so soft. So defeated. So helpless. 

Aziraphale wrapped their spare hand around Crowleys hand, holding it warm and secure between their own. They looked at their Crowley, who had lifted his glasses off his eyes and was staring in wide eyed wonder and amazement.  
The eye contact felt strong, and oh so gently overwhelming. The best kind of overwhelming. They raised Crowleys hand to their lips and kissed each knuckle, softly, delicately, with intent and with purpose.  
Before gently overwhelming could turn into uncomfortably overwhelming, Aziraphale turned so their back was against the couch and Crowleys hand held against their chest. They’d looked up in time to see credits rolling up the screen. 

Crowley leaned forwards for a hug, wrapping his other arm around his angel to overlap with his first and land firm and strong on the opposite shoulder. “That was amazing.” 

“Amazing?” answered Aziraphale with an audible smile. He leaned their head back so it pressed against their friends shoulders on the couch behind them. “I don’t know about that. You said to try things three times before deciding if you like them or not. Surely it’s too soon to tell.” 

Crowley let out a small chuckle. “What can I say. I’m a man of impulsive decisions and I’ve decided I like it.” 

“We should touch more often.” Said Aziraphale.

“We should be touching all the time.” Replied Crowley.

Aziraphale smiled deeply, bringing Crowleys hand back up to his lips for one more gentle kiss. Yes. He did like this. He liked it a lot. And there were so many different kinds of touch to be had. 

Together they picked another movie to play in the same room as them.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote most of this after my second or third watch of the series cause I just wanted to write the hyperfocus scenes. But I didn't feel like writing much description so crowley just kinda appeared in the void holding a knife and a pear, and then like two months later I put him at a party disrespecting furniture. I hope the seams don't show too much, though I fear they do. forgive me. 
> 
> and I tried to keep they/them pronouns for Aziraphale throughout, but I was raised in a society that taught me cultural shorthand for people shaped like Aziraphale is he/him and most of the fics/descriptions I read use he/him, so I may have slipped to what my brain thinks is default though not necessarily right. If I did tell me where and I'll fix it. 
> 
> this one feels kinda vulnerable, cause yeah B I really live this way.  
not all the time, but hyperfocusing on someone elses hand while ignoring a movie is one of earths true delights. 
> 
> also come on, ya boy wiggles when they're happy. they're very easily overwhelmed by sensations (food most obviously). they use eye contact deliberately like it's weapon designed to soften crowley rather than a neutral aspect of every day life. they don't pick up on sarcasm. they keep the same clothes for a hundred years cause they're what they're comfortable wearing. they're very easily fooled (by nazi spies). it takes them far too long to work out that heaven won't help. they are distressed by the idea of breaking the rules. ya boy is on the spectrum. 
> 
> also "crowley wears glasses inside to make aziraphale more comfortable looking at him" might not be the headcannon you thought you'd get, but can I interest you in it? it's quite sweet.


End file.
